


District of the Goddess

by jturner36



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jturner36/pseuds/jturner36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek coping in D.C.</p>
            </blockquote>





	District of the Goddess

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Cat and J.J. for their advice and guidance while I was writing this. All mistakes are mine, not theirs.
> 
> Please note that this was written before we knew about Renee in D.C. This was how my imagination thought Derek might be coping. without knowing the level of communication between Derek and Meredith. And in my imagination, a man who looks like Derek would indeed have women hitting on him.
> 
> Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

The Capital Area Regional Brain Initiative Conference at the Marriott Conference Center in Bethesda, Maryland came to an end with Derek as the closing speaker. He'd been able to brief area and out-of-town researchers and neurosurgeons on his group's progress and frustrations, and after answering questions and saying his goodbyes, Derek walked out of the conference room, down the hall, to the front entrance. He stopped and stared as the automatic doors opened. The sidewalk, the parking lot, and all the shrubs and trees were covered in a thick layer of ice. His phone vibrated in his pocket. The text message read, _Winter Weather Advisory_.

"You think?" he muttered to himself.

As a neurosurgeon, he knew about ice and accidents. He knew that winter weather was perilous and that brain tissue was safe only because of the skull that contained it, and that ice was worse than snow.

It was this knowledge along with years of experience in the Northeast that informed his decision to stay the night instead of trying to slip and slide his way back to D.C. Derek walked to the front desk, his jacket slung over one arm, briefcase in the other as he waited in line.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped through the screens, checking for text messages and then, seeing that there were none, pressed her number. It went straight to voice mail. "Hey, it's me," he began. "I tried to call you this afternoon, but you didn't answer. There's sleet and the roads are slick. I'm planning on staying here in Bethesda, if there's a room." Derek looked up and it was his turn so he ended with, "Call me."

"Good evening, sir," chirped the young man with smooth skin and shiny black hair as Derek stood in front of him. "How can I help you?" A quick glance at the man's badge revealed his name to be "Chann" and that he was from Cambodia. Derek had always hoped to see "Malawi" inscribed on the badges under the name.

Derek placed his briefcase on the front of the counter, opening it. "Do you have any rooms available for tonight?"

"Let me see," Chann said as he tapped away on the keyboard. "We are so busy with the conference today. Are you a Marriott Rewards member?"

He frowned slightly. "Uh...no. I'm not." When did he ever have time to travel?

"Yes sir, no problem. I see I have room with a king bed, if that suits you. Sixth floor."

Derek got his wallet from his pocket and opened it. "That would be great." He handed over his card and glanced at the bar and then at his watch.

"Sir, how many room cards can I get for you?" Chann was impossibly cheerful, Derek noted.

"One." He checked his phone. Nothing. "Oh, and do you have a toothbrush?"  
  
"Very good, yes, here you are, your credit card, your room key card and," Chann paused and reached under the counter, "one toothbrush and some toothpaste," he added, stuffing the room key card into an envelope and handing it over with the toiletries.

"Thank you," Derek responded with a wan smile as he tossed his things into his briefcase.

Chann nodded. "You're welcome, sir, and thank you for staying with us."

Derek started towards the elevator, but stopped short. He didn't really want to go upstairs to his room yet. He couldn't help but feel the emptiness, no matter where he was. In his rented apartment. His office. On the Metro, at the grocery store, walking around the Mall, or staring up at the Lincoln Memorial. Everything was pristine, orderly, quiet and lonely. There were no car seats, no cribs, no tea sets, and no wet diapers in the trash. Zola and Bailey were far away, and he couldn't bear the quiet without them.

No, he didn't want to go to his room yet. He made his way to the bar.

All of the stools were taken, so he eased between two other stranded travelers who had their backs to each other and waited patiently until the bartender addressed him.

"What can I get you?"

"Double scotch, single malt please."

"Sure thing." The bartender deftly filled his glass, and handed it over, accepting Derek's payment and tip.

Derek made his way out of the bar to the lounge area and found an empty chair near a table. He eased into the cushions and checked his phone. Nothing.

 _Still on for tnite?_ he tapped out onto the screen, and groaned quietly when it was autocorrected to, _Still on fort note?_ He tried again. Life was much more difficult now that he was a slave to technology. She made it that way.

He leaned back, sipped his scotch, and waited for a response from her. Nothing. Bored, annoyed, and tired, he took a worn copy of USA Today from the table, glancing at the front page: Snow and ice blanket the Northeast, Congress is gridlocked, veto looms.

"Not much good on the front page, is there?"

Derek looked up to see a woman about Meredith's age standing opposite him. She had shoulder-length, curly, brown hair, a trim figure and large brown eyes with impossibly long lashes.

"Not much," he agreed, smiling.

"Dr. Shepherd?" She smiled in return. "You just spoke at the conference, right?"

"That's right," he answered, standing up and extending his hand. "Derek."

" _The_ Derek Shepherd. It's an honor to meet you," she answered, shaking his hand. "Kerri Baker, Emory University Department of Neurology."

"Emory." Derek paused. "Do you know…?"

"Donald?" she interrupted. "The 'Live Science' piece. Yes, he's a colleague," she chuckled as she sat opposite him.

"Do you share his views?" he asked, eyes narrowed as he settled back into his own chair.

"I do not," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Not anymore. I think that since the president began, your group has done a wonderful job narrowing your focus and outlining your goals." She smiled and raised her glass to her lips, taking a taste. "I heard they had a hard time prying you away from Seattle."

"Yes, it—it wasn't an easy decision." Derek took another mouthful of scotch and focused on his glass for a moment.

"Not easy?" She frowned and shook her head, disagreeing. "You're at the forefront of medicine. Like Kolff or Salk. That decision's easy. Besides, you've got 'The Shepherd Method' under your belt, you're published and famous. Everyone knows your work. This is phenomenal, groundbreaking. You're making history again."

Derek nodded, letting her words sink in.

"I think it's wonderful," she added sincerely. "And after all, it WAS the President of the United States asking for you." They were silent for a moment, each contemplating their drinks and listening to the soft hum of people in the bar. "So," she began, "have you eaten dinner yet? I'm starving and I'd love for you to join me."

He furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Uh, no, I haven't eaten yet, but I…."  
  
She was insistent. "Please! I leave in the morning, and I'd love to carry some insider information back to Donald. You know, just to rub his nose in it," Kerri laughed and her curls swayed gently as she did. Her face radiated warmth. "Honestly, I want to pick your brain, pun intended, about some of the things you're working on."  
  
Derek paused. I can't. I shouldn't. I need to go upstairs. I need to make the call. I need not to eat dinner with women I don't know. Derek contemplated the situation — her — for a moment. "Since you put it that way, Kerri, I can't refuse," he said, grinning.  
  
They walked together toward the restaurant and Derek held the door for her as they entered."Two of you tonight?" the hostess asked.

"Yes, please," he replied.

"Right this way," she smiled as she gathered up two menus. "Is a booth okay?"

Kerri looked to him for his approval, and Derek said, "I'd prefer a table, if you have one available."

"Sure, let's see." The hostess looked over her seating plan. "I have one near the fireplace, will that be okay?"

"That's fine," he answered.

They followed her, making their way through the maze of tables. "Here you are, your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal," she added.

Derek pulled her chair out, and Kerri sat, thanking him.

He sat down and smiled across the table. "Fire feels good. Warm."

Kerri nodded in agreement. "It does feel good. I haven't been north in about five years, this weather is brutal. Although we've had our own version of brutal in Atlanta." She began looking over the menu.

"Well, I'm from the East Coast originally, so it's not so foreign. I'm confounded by the highways here — I still don't know the difference between the 'Inner' and 'Outer' loops, and for the life of me, I still call the airport 'Washington National.'"

"Isn't it 'Reagan National'?"

Derek's eyes sparkled as he grinned. "So they say."

"Hmm, not a Reagan fan?"

"Not really," he chuckled. "Plus, the airport was already named for a president. It's redundant." He realized that despite his previous grumpy mood, he was happy for the company. "Would you like to order another drink or would you like a bottle of wine?" he asked.

Kerri nodded in agreement. "Wine would be good."

Derek perused the wine list and the menu, and she stole glances at him as he did. His hair had just the right amount of salt and pepper. His lips were a dusky pink against his darkening beard. His eyes were….

"I'm in the mood for steak," he declared, interrupting her thoughts.

"The steak with bleu cheese looks really good. Since we're in a steak-eating mood, let's find a red," Kerri suggested.

He took his time and looked over the choices. "Here's one I like," he shared.

Just then, their waiter appeared. "Good evening, I'm Carlos and I'll be your server this evening." Derek read on his nametag that he was from Argentina. "I see you're reviewing our wine list. Have you made a choice?''

"Yes," Derek responded. "We'd like to start with the 2008 Spottswoode Cabernet."

"Very good, sir. I'll bring that right out. Do you care for an appetizer?"

Derek looked over at Kerri, who shook her head no. "No thank you. We're ready to order."

"Very well. Ma'am, what can we get you?"

As Kerri was giving her order, Derek felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Excuse me," he said as he took it out of his pocket. One text. He quickly touched his screen only to be disappointed. _Winter storm warning._

"I'll actually have the same," Derek said. "But medium-rare, please."

"Thank you, I'll get your orders in right away."

Derek lifted his wine glass to Kerri. "Here's to warmer weather and less ice and snow," he laughed. She touched her glass to his and took her first taste.

"This is so fine. Delicious," she murmured.

"It is. I have several bottles at home." Home. Derek looked away for a moment to allow the feeling to pass. "So, Kerri, tell me about your work at Emory. What brought you to the conference?"

Kerri leaned into the table, obviously excited to talk about this with him. "Our department is focusing on adult epilepsies, diagnosing seizures, better planning for epilepsy surgery, the efficacies of treatment with various medications and vagus nerve stimulation. We're also researching transcranial magnetic stimulation and of course, brain mapping."

Derek's eyes lit up. "We were reviewing your data last week. Tell me about the pharmacology."

Their conversation remained animated from their salads, through their main course, and with the help of another bottle of wine. For the first time in a long time, Derek felt free to show his excitement, to be thrilled about his work, without the mantle of bad husband, bad brother, and bad father.

After discussing sensors, protocol, theories, and the vagus nerve longer than any two people should, they found themselves alone in the restaurant.

Kerri moved her chair to stand. "Will you excuse me?"

"Of course." He stood up briefly as she left the table, and he watched her as she left.

She walked to the ladies room and took out her cell. Her best friend had left three text messages, she saw as she scrolled through. She texted back: _At dinner. Can't talk, I'll call later._

_With who? Where?_

_Conference. One of the speakers. Big shot, smart — GORGEOUS._

_Details!_

Kerri grinned, and wrote, _Later, gtg._ After her quick trip to the stall, she washed her hands and then reapplied her lipstick, checking her makeup in the mirror.

While Derek waited for Kerri to return, he paid the bill and thanked the waiter. He felt happy for the first time all week. It was great, he thought, to talk to someone who shared his passion, who understood his focus and drive. Someone who didn't accuse him of being a tyrant because he loved his work or who belittled him in front of his peers.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Kerri said as she sat back down. "Do we have a check?"

"We did," Derek replied. He was interrupted by his phone. "Excuse me." _Hazardous travel advisory._ Derek had ten minutes left. "I took care of it."

"Thank you, that wasn't necessary." She smiled at him as she sat.

"My pleasure." He smiled back. "I'm gonna head up now."

"Yeah," Kerri agreed, "I think I will, too. I have an early flight. Assuming the planes aren't grounded with this ice."

They walked over to the elevators together. He pressed the "up" button and they waited a few moments until the elevator arrived. "After you," Derek offered. Kerri entered, followed by Derek, and their fingers simultaneously reached for the number six. "I got it," he said.

They rode silently, Derek intent on watching the ascending numbers. She was close enough to smell his cologne, and to feel the heat rising off his body. Third floor, fourth. Everyone else got off. _What are the chances?_ he thought. Fifth floor.

"Derek, thank you for your company this evening," Kerri said warmly, breaking the awkward silence. She extended her hand and he took it. She held it for a moment. "Would you like to join me? I can call room service, we can continue our discussion. Have one last drink?" Her brown eyes with the impossibly long lashes were fixed on his own blue eyes now. She watched as several different emotions passed almost imperceptibly over his face.

Sixth floor. The doors opened.

Derek withdrew his hand and looked at his watch, mentally subtracting three hours. They exited and were suddenly uncomfortable with each other. Or at least he was uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I can't." He looked down at Kerri again, and she was visibly disappointed. "It's — I have a call to make and I can't be late."

"I'll wait" she offered. She was trying to strike the right balance — not too aggressive, but still making herself available. For whatever ensued.

Derek paused. He wasn't confused; he knew what was happening here. "I need to make a call."

"Do you want company? I mean…after your call, would you like to join me?" She paused a moment. "I'm in room 624. Or, I can join you."

Kerri was a little tipsy, he was a little drunk. And he was so tired of being angry — at himself, at Meredith, at the three-hour time difference and the six-hour flight. He was angry and he was hurt and he was alone and he missed his kids and beat himself up about being gone and yet, he loved his wife. Unconditionally.

"No," he reiterated softly. "I can't. I'm married. It was a pleasure, really, it was nice having dinner with you, but I need to…get to my room." He smiled at her and took a small step away.

Kerri pulled away as well. "I'm so sorry; I don't know how I didn't know that you're…." She played with her room card and closed her eyes briefly. "I mean, I thought you were here alone, and I'm just…so sorry. You have no wedding ring and…I'm sorry, I read this wrong, and…." She looked incredibly embarrassed.

"Please, no, don't be," Derek assured her, moving closer, touching her arm briefly. He tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows slightly, looking forlorn. "I am alone. Don't apologize. You're lovely and I really needed…I enjoyed your company tonight. I did. Thank you." He extended his hand once more with a benevolent smile and she took it.

"It was so nice to spend time with you, Derek. Thank you for dinner." She smiled apologetically. "Again, I'm sorry if I was…out of bounds."

With that, she turned and disappeared down the hall and he watched her leave before walking the opposite way to his room and inserted his card, waiting for the green light. Red. "Dammit," he muttered. These cards never worked for him. He tried it one way, then the other, and squelched the urge to break down the door. He couldn't be late. Turn it around, try it again.

Derek Shepherd was a neurosurgeon, a researcher again, one of the greatest neurosurgeons in the United States, perhaps in the world. He was surrounded every day by other great minds that inspired him. Tonight, Kerri had inspired him. He was a husband, maybe — hopefully. But he was first and foremost a father. He'd been apart from his children for less than one month, but here he was, late for a FaceTime date with his daughter, who bristled if he was not punctual.

The door opened, and he rushed in, tossed his things on the bed, and sat at the desk. His fingers danced quickly over his touchscreen. He swiped left, found FaceTime, and touched Meredith's number.

She answered it, but all he saw was her fingers. "Meredith?" The iPad was handed off to their daughter. She was in her bedroom, he saw, with the two pillows and four stuffed animals she insisted upon sleeping with.

"Daddy!" she squealed in return.

"Hey Zo!" He smiled at her image. She was getting so big, and was so beautiful.

"Bailey is sleeping, but I waited up!"

He swallowed hard, and tried not to get emotional. She waited for him. His sweet girl. "It's late here. There, too. Are you all tucked in?"

"Yes."

"Good. What do you want to talk about tonight?"

"Tell my story, Daddy." She was serious, and held the iPad carefully.

"Well, okay. You ready?" She nodded. Derek took a breath and began. "Once upon a time, in a place by the lake called Senga Bay, a beautiful baby girl was born. She was quiet and peaceful at first, so her mother named her Zola."

Zola beamed, leaning into the tablet. "Me!"

"Her mother in Malawi loved Zola very much, but Zola was sick. So sick that her mother worried and worried about how to take care of her. And even though it hurt her heart, she gave Zola away."

"Mama can fix her hurt," Zola interjected seriously.

"Your mommy can fix everything," Derek agreed. "One day, Zola came to Seattle to see doctors who could help her. She cried and cried, because her head hurt so much. She needed to find a doctor who could make her feel better."

"My daddy!" Zola yelled, dropping the tablet to clap her hands, so Derek was now looking at the ceiling. Zola composed herself and righted the tablet again.

"Now, there was a doctor, a doctor who had a...." His voice faltered briefly, but her face was glowing, so he pressed on. "The doctor had a beautiful wife who wanted a baby so much. He did, too. But they didn't have a baby of their own to love."

"Mama needed a baby," Zola said with all the seriousness she could muster.

"Yes, she did. And when the neu...when the brain doctor saw her, and held her and she smiled at him, he forgot why he ever dreamed of blue-eyed baby girls."

"Yours are blue and Mama's are blue and Bailey's are blue, and mine are brown!"

"Yes, they are." Derek felt melancholy. He missed holding her and tucking her in at night. "When this doctor saw Zola and held Zola, he knew he would love her. He would love the way she smiled and he would love the way she laughed. And he would love her brown eyes forever. He would take care of her forever."

"And Bailey, too?" Zola rubbed her eye, making her image wobbly.

Derek smiled at her sweetness. "Of course. Bailey, too."

"The end," Zola yawned. "Now Daddy, you sing."

Derek chuckled. "I do?"

She was drowsy. "Yes, Daddy."

His lullaby was not unique to him, but one that he came across the last time he and Meredith were – separated wasn't the right word, but separate was. At first he couldn't decipher the lyrics so he settled for singing an American lullaby on that first night when she woke up screaming, frantically, he imagined, looking for Meredith, and when he couldn't remember the words, he resorted to making up them up while trying to stick with the melody as much as possible.

But now, years later, he had it down pat, and he knew he couldn't disappoint her.

"Okay, Zo – are you ready to go to sleep?"

"Sing, Daddy." She put the tablet next to her. Ceiling view again.

Derek sang softly.

_"Binda mntanami_  
_Eya eya_  
_Binda mntanami_  
_Eya eya_  
_Maguqa nazo oyiye_  
_Maguqa nazo oyiye  
Ho tivun' umumbu."_

She was quiet, and he whispered, "G'night, Zo. Have sweet dreams." Derek waited for Meredith to take the iPad. He knew she was there, that she had listened.

"Meredith?"

Derek put his iPhone down and undressed, carefully hanging his clothes for tomorrow so he didn't look too rumpled on his way home, and glanced at the phone. He used the bathroom, washed his hands and face, and then brushed his teeth.

Call her again.

Call her.

Call her.

He sighed and drew back the covers, falling into bed. He closed his eyes and he imagined her. That face. That same beautiful grin, those same twinkling eyes.

Derek picked up his phone and called her. It went to voicemail, of course, and he imagined that she directed it there. So he got out of bed and opened his briefcase, taking his laptop back to bed with him. He opened up his e-mail account and started writing.

_"Hey Mer. Thanks for helping Zola tonight. I would like it if you answered your phone when you can. I've been trying to talk to you for days. When you don't answer your phone, it worries me."_

He sat there for minutes, waiting for the words to come.

_"It's hard for me to be away from the kids. I can talk to Zola, for as long as that lasts, but I can't talk with Bailey. I need to hear how he's doing from you."_

Derek pressed on.

_"I miss you, too. I love my work, but I miss you. I want to be able to tell you that, at least on the phone. This morning I thought about you and our last time in our shower at home."_

He closed his eyes, remembering. She was so furious at him that her sexual boycott had continued for weeks. The fighting was bad enough, but the absence of physical closeness made him miss her the most.

 _"When I miss you, I think about that night. I love you, Mer_."

He closed his laptop and put it on the floor against the nightstand. Then he closed his eyes, trying to relive the last night that they were intimate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm mad at you," she'd warned in the kitchen.

He dipped his head slightly. "I know," he whispered. He walked around the kitchen island and extended his hand. She took it, and he pulled her into his arms to kiss her. "Let's get that shower."

Derek walked to their bedroom, his spirits soaring. He shed his clothes first, purposely, so he could see her undress. He watched avidly, his hunger growing. Her eyes didn't leave his as she tossed her clothes aside. Meredith walked into their bathroom and after she turned the water on in their shower, she smiled at him, inviting him to join her.

As the spray covered them, they were inches apart. Water streaming everywhere, steam and heat. Derek put his hands on either side of her face and stared into her eyes.

Even with the yelling, the fighting, the disagreements, tonight in their shower, here she was, so soft, so sweet and willing. He bent down to gently kiss her lips, and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her and then reached down, running his hands over the curves of her, pulling her closer, pressing his swollen cock against her. A moan escaped from her mouth as she arched into him. Grasping a handful of hair in his hand, he tenderly took her mouth, hungry for her kisses. Her nipples pressed to his chest, inviting, ripening. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck in submission, splashing water everywhere.

He tasted her skin, his lips traveling down to the edge of her collarbone, and further, to the fullness of her breasts. He lingered there, licking and sucking, tugging at her nipples with his teeth, holding her breasts in his hands, making her moan, and then continued his journey, kissing her waist, all the time talking to her, telling her what he wanted to do, how beautiful she was. Moving downward, he dipped his tongue into her navel.

"Meredith?" he breathed.

"Derek."

He fell to his knees. Meredith. His mouth searched her, pulling gently at her sensitive lips, his tongue delicately probing her, and he found there a slick reminder of her sexuality. She was already swollen with desire, and her softness overtook him. He took her into his mouth and sucked gently as she moaned louder.

"Derek." She pulled him up, and when he stood he ran his hands over her. He cupped her breasts, and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, squeezing and tugging on each one until she cried out. He reached lower, between her thighs, caressing her, feeling her swell even more under his touch. He took one finger, then two, sliding them ever so gently inside her. "Oh, look at you." He found what he was after. The buttery, slippery skin, the wetness he knew so well, beckoned him. He moved his fingers in and out of her while Meredith moved with him, imploring him not to stop.

Meredith moaned and spread her legs wider. Her head was thrown back, hair cascading down, as she arched to reach him, waiting for him.

Derek took his hands and gently parted her folds, revealing more. Unable to contain his desire any longer, he picked her up against him, feeling the mild resistance of her slick, taut opening, and penetrated her, spreading her apart as she moaned again. He whispered her name and plunged into the depths of her. Like a drowning man, he clung to her, holding her hips, feeling the softness of her against his body. She surrendered control and held him, forgetting her hurt and her anger, relinquishing herself to the moment, to him.

Derek was lost in a world of his own. He remembered the way she drove his desire, making him defenseless near her. The nights when he felt he could never have enough of her, when he took her just one more time. The emptiness, the ache for her. He drove into her, making her gasp, his shaft moving inside of her, waiting for her release.

"Ummm..." she groaned as her movements quickened. Derek's voice was low and urgent, murmuring in her ear.

"Come."

Her body obeyed, and as the water poured over them, she poured over him. Her breath sporadic, muscles tensing, he felt her shudder, clamping down around him. Little cries emerged from her mouth, her back arched in pleasure, and Derek closed his eyes, savoring the last moments of her orgasm.

No longer in control, he felt the beginnings of his own inevitable surrender. The pressure built within him and once again he was helpless inside of her and cried out as he climaxed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek was startled awake by the buzz of his phone. It was a text message from Meredith.

_I can't talk to you because_

_Because?_ he typed back.

_I miss you._

He smiled. Just then, she posted a video onto their shared stream. Derek pressed the photo icon, and then the video. She'd recorded two minutes of Bailey, asleep in his crib. Derek was mesmerized. He watched it three times before sending his last text.

_Thank you. I love you._


End file.
